The scene: a large courtroom with marble floors, wood paneling, and a weary-looking judge. The jury box is filled with an odd assortment of jurors. The courtroom is packed with an audience and reporters, everyone staring right at the witness box, including the DISTRICT ATTORNEY, an attractive but somewhat overzealous woman with shifty, not entirely trustworthy eyes.
DISTRICT ATTORNEY: ** Miss Choie**, did you or did you not try and get the doc to protect someone else at Night?
*The DEFENDANT, a lovely brunette who looks far younger than her 40something years, sits in the witness box. Throughout her testimony she’ll never even raise her voice, despite the increasingly shrill accusations from the DA. She wears a form-fitting suit and skirt, a little cloche hat, and white gloves, as is proper for this nebulously noir film taking place circa 1940 - 1955: *
DEFENDANT: No, ma’am. I did not. I was irked because he’s now unable to protect anyone but himself, but I certainly didn’t ask him to protect anyone else once he came out of the closet, so to speak. What kind of a sap do you think I am?
DA: Did you or did you not say that you don’t think Precam was the SK/Vig?
DEFENDANT (raising one exquisitely arched eyebrow): I don’t recall saying that he definitely wasn’t the SK. I did say I don’t think he’s the Vig, because I’m 95% sure we don’t have a Vig. Or if we do, we have a singularly ineffective one. This is hardly a unique opinion. Everyone, let’s raise our hands who thinks we have a vig?
A few hands are raised in the courtroom, but the judge bangs his gavel and warns the DEFENDANT not to address the public or solicit audience interaction.
DEFENDANT (sweetly): I’m sorry, your honor. Anyway, I have another reason for not thinking precambrianmollusc is the SK, and that’s because I have a suspicion about who is the SK. And that person is–
DA (who almost lurches toward the witness box while interrupting): Who else should the doc have protected? I think you wanted him to protect someone else so that you could get a shot in and have him killed!
DEFENSE ATTORNEY (slamming his hand on the table and leaping to his feet): Objection! Badgering the witness! She won’t even let Miss Choie answer her questions!
*(The jurors and audience in the courtroom gasp audibly as the defendant in the witness box flushes slightly, the judge bangs his gavel, and both defense and prosecuting attorneys begin to argue. The cacophony is overwhelmed by the lone voice of the defendant, clutching the edge of the witness box.) *
DEFENDANT: No, she’s right! I did it, I did it all!..
(Defendant sits back in her chair, smiling serenely at the red-faced prosecutor.)
…That’s what you’d like me to say, wouldn’t you? Except… I shan’t. I never said the doc should protect anyone else now that he’s out in the open, as vulnerable as a newborn kitten with a stethoscope.
DA (clearly hoping to change the subject): I also think that you know that Precam couldn’t be the Vig/SK because you are.
DEFENDANT: You’re repeating yourself, Madam District Attorney. I heard you the first time. But frankly, I think you know I’m neither the non-existant Vig nor the SK. Though I do have my suspicions about just who is the SK. (Eyes the DA with something akin to sympathy.) It’s not you, though. My guess is you’re plain ol’ vanilla scum.
(Audience and jurors again start to murmur in the courtroom. Judge bangs gavel again in frustration, demands silence lest he clear the court, yadda yadda.)
JUDGE: May I ask the defendant one question? Who are you saying is the serial killer, then?
*DEFENDANT casts her eyes around the courtroom, her shining brown gaze finally alighting on one shadowy figure sitting in the back of the room. Their eyes meet… each clearly knows they are enemies, and though no word is uttered, much is said in that single glance.
DEFENDANT returns to look ahead, still calm and cool as a cuke in a freezer.*
DEFENDANT: Get me into a witness protection program… and then I’ll sing like a canary. Until then, you’ll get nothing further.
Chaos erupts. The audience in the courtroom can no longer remain silent. Reporters dash out to call in their stories; the judge doesn’t even bother trying to maintain order. Throughout, our beautiful, clearly innocent defendant sits back, unafraid, proud, and ready to accept whatever the jury–and especially any corrupt prosecutors–plans on throwing at her.